


It was only a matter of time.

by springdaughter



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Feelings Realization, Fluff, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23551108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springdaughter/pseuds/springdaughter
Summary: “Why did you call me, then?”“Hah?” Kuroo squinted his eyes, looking at Tsukishima as if he were the dumbest person alive. “Cause I wanted to hear your voice, of course. Keep talking.”Kuroo falls asleep over FaceTime and Tsukishima’s feelings overwhelm him.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 7
Kudos: 209





	It was only a matter of time.

Tsukishima Kei was bad at expressing his emotions. 

Or rather - he was not bad so much as he was _methodical_. He was almost too logical for his own good, approaching matters of the heart with a precise level of skepticism and objectivity. He would never let his emotions control him. Feelings like frustration and anger were fleeting, after all. Given time they would eventually fade, so there was really no need for Tsukishima to work himself up over nothing. 

Similarly, when Tsukishima felt an inkling of happiness or hope in his chest, he would never let it consume him, for those feelings were temporary, too. It was better to keep his expectations low. If things ended up taking a turn for the worst, then he could stave off disappointment (and save face).

Tsukishima approached all aspects of his life in this precise manner: school, family, volleyball, friendships, whatever. He never made any decisions without careful consideration. Nor did he allow himself to be carried away on whims or anything resembling irrationally.

Of course, that was before the joint training camp...before he met Kuroo Tetsurou.

Kuroo was different for Tsukishima and he couldn’t figure out why. All sense of rationality immediately flew out the window when it came to rooster-hair. Kuroo provoked a different side of him - one he didn’t even realize was there. At first, Tsukishima assumed the feeling swelling in his chest was annoyance - albeit an very extreme case. Kuroo _did_ love to be a thorn at his side and tease him.

Deep down, however, Tsukishima knew it couldn’t be that simple. Whenever Kuroo ruffled his hair or pinched his cheek or got a little too close during blocking practice, Tsukishima didn’t know how to act. He’d pull away, flustered, cheeks burning red, heat chasing after Kuroo’s touch. The sensation crawling under his skin couldn’t be mere annoyance; it was too strong, too overwhelming.

Even more suffocating were the _thoughts_. They were constant: an endless barrage, day and night. All he could think about was that sly grin, and the feeling of Kuroo’s hand at his back, correcting his form in a manner that came off far more intimate than intended.

These feelings didn’t die with the training camp, either. Kuroo wouldn’t let them, no matter how hard Tsukishima tried. 

Somehow, in the weeks following the camp, Kuroo managed to get a hold of Tsukishima’s phone number. He doesn’t know who gave it out, but he suspected it might have been Hinata. The traitor.

Kuroo would message Tsukishima every day, first thing in the morning, reminding him to eat a full breakfast. He would sometimes even ask for pictures as proof. _How are you going to get any stronger if you skip meals?_

In between classes, too, he would berate Tsukishima with questions. _What’s the weather like there? How’s shrimpy doing?_ _Did you eat lunch? What are you doing right now? Do you miss me?_

 _Why do you keep talking to me?_ Tsukishima finally sent one day, his words seeming harsher than intended over text. He certainly didn’t mean to come off cold. He simply could not understand why Nekoma’s captain kept messaging him constantly, and over nothing. 

Kuroo’s reply was delayed - perhaps he was considering the question himself. Why _does_ he keep talking to Tsukishima?

Later that night, his phone lit up with the answer. 

_you’re cute thats why :P_

Tsukishima stared at his screen. The heat, the blushing, the swelling in his chest - it all came flooding in full force.

He took off his glass and rubbed his eyes, the smallest hint of a smile ghosting his lips. 

-

Tsukishima didn’t know when their daily texts turned into daily calls, or when those calls then became FaceTimes. Kuroo must have suggested it at some point - he’s always the one coming up with ideas - but Tsukishima can’t say for certain. It was all a blur, really. 

What he did know, however, was that seeing Kuroo’s sly grin had now become a staple in his nighttime routine. After practice let out, he would walk home with Yamaguchi, greet his parents at the door, eat dinner with his brother, and then head up stairs to take a shower. Once he had dried off and slipped into sweats, he would putter around his room, waiting. Then, at 9 PM on the dot, his phone would ring.

_Kuroo Tetsurou wants to FaceTime._

“Yo Tsukki~” 

He greeted him the same way every time. And every time, Tsukishima would return the greeting properly, like the respectful kouhai he was.

Kuroo didn’t like all that formal crap; he’d said so on multiple occasions. But no matter what, Tsukishima couldn’t bring himself to be familiar. He still felt flustered around Kuroo, like nothing between them had changed since training camp. 

Of course...nothing _had_ changed between them. Whatever the hell they were doing...FaceTiming each other every day and talking until midnight...it was strictly platonic. 

That’s what Tsukishima kept telling himself. _Strictly platonic._

“How was your day?” Kuroo asked. It wasn’t some poor attempt at small talk, either. He was genuinely interested. He’d listen to Tsukishima talk about school and practice, asking questions and following up on information previously shared.

“How’s your friend’s float serve coming along? What’s his name....”

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima answered. He propped his elbow on his desk and rested his chin in his palm, his other hand holding up the phone. “He’s been working a lot with the alumni,” he said, thinking back on practice. “His ball control is getting better.”

Kuroo whistled. “Already? You know, if he manages to get that nailed down by nationals, he might just give Nekoma some trouble.”

“Nationals?" Tsukishima smirked. "That’s a bit presumptuous. We probably won’t even beat Shiratorizawa next week...”

Ah, there is was. Tsukishima’s precise rationality; never letting himself get too hopeful.

“Hey, you don’t know that,” Kuroo cut him off. “Karasuno is strong. Not as strong as Nekoma, maybe...but you’ve got that freak duo. Daichi’s a reliable captain too, and your little libero is pretty competent when it comes to receives. Not to mention, they have you. My little blocking prodigy.”

Tsukishima’s stomach twisted in knots. “Shut up,” he muttered, his words lacking any real bite.

Kuroo yawned. He reclined further back on his bed, switching to his side. It was only then that Tsukishima realized how truly exhausted he appeared. By all means, Kuroo was a fairly energetic guy, especially when compared to the reserved Tsukishima. He was far more outgoing, getting easily wrapped up in Bokuto’s antics and causing mischief just for the fun of it.

But now, his energy was noticeably low, sapped from him. The circles under his eyes were dark, and his voice was beginning to rasp. Tsukishima’s brows furrowed.

“Are you alright? You seem tired.”

Kuroo chuckled at this. “Aw, are you worried about me, four-eyes?”

Tsukishima’s rolled his eyes. “No. I just don’t want to keep you up.”

Kuroo grew suddenly serious. “Don’t hang up. I’m not tired. I’m the one who called you, anyway.”

Tsukishima was unconvinced, raising a skeptical brow. 

Kuroo sighed. “Really, four-eyes, when did you become so responsible? I’m only tired because training was brutal today. We lost our practice match against Fukurodani last week and coach made us pay today with extra laps.”

“You lost to Bokuto?” Tsukishima asked, not even bothering to hide the smile playing at this lips.

“Oi, give me a break,” Kuroo moaned, frowning. “I've had a long day and I didn’t call you to be made fun of.”

Tsukishima’s smile faded. He brought his knees up and hugged them to his chest, toes curling over the end of his desk chair. He allowed himself a beat of consideration, before asking, “Why _did_ you call me, then?”

“Hah?” Kuroo squinted his eyes, looking at Tsukishima as if he were the dumbest person alive. “Cause I wanted to hear your voice, of course. Keep talking.”

The knots in Tsukishima’s stomach returned, twisting and flipping and turning inside out. For a second, he really felt like he was going to throw up. “Oh,” was all he could think to say. “Ok.”

And so talk he did. He must have gone on for thirty minutes uninterrupted, rambling about everything and nothing. He can’t even remember what he said - something about an assignment for class he was struggling with. At some point, he was so strapped for interesting topics that he brought up his older brother - someone he rarely ever mentioned nowadays. 

“...recently he’s been coming to our matches. He’s still a little awkward about everything, but I think he’s trying to make up for lost time...”

Tsukishima trailed off, distracted by the sound coming from the other side of the screen. Kuroo’s eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, his breathing heavy and loud.

The bastard was snoring.

“I told you to go to bed, dumbass,” Tsukishima said softly. He wondered how long Kuroo had been out for, chiding himself for not noticing sooner. 

His first instinct was to hang up. Kuroo really did seem wiped out from practice. Tsukishima knew if he woke him up now, the stubborn idiot would insist he was fine and try to keep talking. Kuroo was usually the reason their nightly FaceTimes stretched out to midnight. He hated saying goodnight and would come up with any excuse to prolong the conversation.

At the same time, Tsukishima couldn’t bring himself to end the call. His eyes were glued to the screen, drinking up the soft expression before him. 

Kuroo was never one to put on airs and pretend to be something he’s not. At least, not in the way Tsukishima was sometimes guilty of. That being said, Kuroo definitely liked to play up certain parts of his personality when the two talked. He was always lighthearted, making unfunny jokes to keep the atmosphere from becoming too serious. That was part of the reason why Tsukishima found him so hard to read. There were very few occasions in which Kuroo’s expression broke from that sly grin. 

This just so happen to be one of those rare, golden moments.

Kuroo’s brows knit together while he slept, creasing in the middle as if he were worried about something. His right cheek was buried in his pillow, causing his lower lip to part slightly and create a small puddle of drool by his chin. His hair, which was messy on a good day, had been further rumpled by the pillow, sticking flat to his forehead. And his expression - it was nothing Tsukishima ever seen before - soft and vulnerable, tinted orange from the glow of his bedside lamp. 

Staring in quiet awe, Tsukishima realized he wanted to see this side of Kuroo more often. He imagined what it would have been like if they were together in person, talking late into the night until Kuroo inevitably drifted off first. Tsukishima would just lay there beside him, wide awake, soaking up his vulnerable expression until he was content. 

Thoughtlessly, he brushed his thumb across the screen, stopping over Kuroo’s parted lips, wondering what they felt like.

_Wait._

It only took a second of self-reflection to snap Tsukishima back to reality. He quickly ended the call and placed his phone face down on the desk. He sat there frozen for a second or two, before covering his face with both hands.

_What the hell was he just thinking?_

Tsukishima was no fool. He may have been a rational thinker, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t reconcile his own emotions, especially when they were presented to him so clearly. 

Part of Tsukishima - a deeply buried, unconscious part - had always known this would happen. From the very beginning, Kuroo had been different. Tsukishima fixated on him, imitated him, looked up to him. But more than that, he _liked_ him. He liked him so much that he was willing to put up with his lame jokes and constant teasing. Hell, he would _gladly_ talk for hours each night about nothing, so long as it meant more time together.

It was only a matter of time before Tsukishima dealt with the feelings planted firmly in the pit of his stomach. They had always been there, vining through his body and blooming beneath his skin every time Kuroo’s number lit up his screen.

After what felt like forever, Tsukishima finally pulled his hands away from his face. He leaned back in his desk chair and stared at the blank white ceiling. Strangely, he was smiling.

“I’m so fucked.”


End file.
